


I'm Working On It

by ShiroiNoKiba



Series: AsaNoya Week 2020 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Asanoya Week 2020, Boys Kissing, Day 6: Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, POV Nishinoya Yuu, Painkillers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:59:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26359093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShiroiNoKiba/pseuds/ShiroiNoKiba
Summary: It's not Nishinoya's fault. It doesn't matter how nice he is to others, it doesn't matter how much of himself he gives, he'll end up with a busted lip and a concussion for it one way or another. Every third week is a trip to the nurse's office, whether it be for a bumped shoulder in the hallway, or a look in the eye that lingers just an instant too long, he pays the price for these ridiculous trespasses in blood. And the reputation he's built from taking so many batterings just keeps them coming. He's tried so many times to correct it, to clean up his name, but somehow it always finds its way back. The troublemaker label. The scent of danger. The anxious glances his way.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu
Series: AsaNoya Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885456
Comments: 10
Kudos: 78
Collections: Asanoya Week 2020





	I'm Working On It

Nishinoya puts his lollipop back in his mouth, humming the song that has been stuck in his head since first period as he walks down through the hallway between throngs of students. The lollipop, a pear-flavored treat he bummed off his classmate with only minor annoyance to her, has to be finished before he gets to the gym. He's been resisting biting into it, trying to savor the juicy flavor for a little longer, but he's got no choice now. If he gets to the gym with it in his mouth, every one of his teammates is going to ask him for one. He does usually carry some candy in his bag, but he'd run out and hadn't had the chance to get some more. And he'd had to really beg for this one, so telling them where he'd gotten his from wouldn't be much help; he figures his classmate wouldn't appreciate giving all of her candy out to the sugar-starved boy's volleyball team. Just as he fixes the sugary pop between his back teeth to crush it, he pauses and smiles, settling it back on his tongue. There is _one_ teammate he wouldn't mind sharing it with.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Nishinoya steps up to the door that opens to the covered hallway leading to the gym. A sudden hand grasps his other shoulder, and before he even has a chance to turn around and see who it is, he's yanked backwards off his feet, slamming to the floor with an 'oof!'

"What the hell?!" he roars, pushing himself up to face find his attacker. The only thing he sees is a fist flying at him in a blur. He throws his arm up to block the hit, but it still lands painfully. "What's your problem?!"

"My problem?" snaps the other. Nishinoya, still wary of incoming knuckles, lowers his arm enough to see. A very angry, very unfamiliar face snarls back in his. The punk looks to be a third year, his hair shaved underneath like a criminal. He balls one giant fist in the front of Nishinoya's uniform, dragging him up bodily from the ground. The smaller second year just holds on to his wrist, unable to do much else against his brute strength. "My _problem_ is some second year bitch thinking it's cool to flirt with my girl."

"What did you call me?" Nishinoya's voice lowers. His attacker doesn't seem to hear.

"You talkin' to my girl in class, huh? Asking her for candy and shit? What, 'cause you sit next to her you think you can be all buddy-buddy with her or somethin'?"

It clicks then. "Oh, you're her boyfriend?"

"Fuckin' right I'm her boyfriend," the guy stands taller to boast. Nishinoya is pulled to his tiptoes, clasping a huge wrist in both hands. He thinks if this guy wanted to, he'd throw him across the courtyard no problem.

"She talked to me first, though," he says, a grin spreading like sin across his face. The huge guy does a double-take. "Yeah. Asked me if I had the answer to one of the questions we were working on."

" _What_ did you say?" The strange third year pulls him closer, narrowing his tiny eyes.

"Told her I didn't know," Nishinoya shrugs. "But I invited her to study at my place on Sunday-- _oogh!_ "

His head clangs back hard against the lockers. Dizziness makes his vision dark.

_Oh, I got 'em._

He laughs through the pain, earning himself a fist to his mouth. He tastes blood right away, but he's still laughing. His lollipop clatters to the floor, debris sticking to its cracked green surface.

"Oh, see now. That's the candy I got from Marina-san. You've gone and wasted it."

"You listen here, you second-year _shit_ ," the guy spits in his face. Nishinoya just blinks a few times, raising one hand to check for blood under his nose. "I catch you talking to my girl again--"

"And what?" Nishinoya bites, looking the massive kid in the eye at last. "You gonna beat me up some more? You gonna lock her up in the house like your property? Like some kind of animal?"

The third year is stunned to silence. Nishinoya continues, his voice crackling.

"Marina-san is a nice girl. She's smart, smarter than you for damn sure. I bet she's afraid of you. You talk to her like this when she talks to other guys? She shouldn't be going out with a gorilla like you!"

Instead of answering, the third year pulls back his fist and lets it fly across Nishinoya's cheek. The pain blasts through his already-abused skull, and the hit is followed with another that knocks the air out of his lungs. Nishinoya gasps and crumples to the floor when his collar is released, too weakened to hold himself up. A shin smashes against his ribcage and he groans. His eyes are closed, his consciousness fading quickly, and he's sure this won't end until he's lying completely still on the floor. Two more hits smash him in the face. He waits for the next hit, anticipating a shoe instead of knuckles this time, but it doesn't come. He can hear some kind of scrambling, and he opens his eyes to find someone even bigger has grabbed his attacker from behind, looping their arms under his and pulling him away.

"Enough!" the third person growls, struggling hard to hold the gorilla.

"Get off me, get the hell off!"

Nishinoya tries to get up, but falls back to his knees. He has to brace himself upright with both hands on the floor. His head spins so much he can hardly tell up from down. "Hey... hey, it's cool we were just talking." His voice is hardly audible, but he can't seem to make it come out stronger. The third guy twists, sending the gorilla stumbling as he's pushed away.

"Now get out of here before you're suspended again, Kinoe."

_That voice..._

Nishinoya can't see, but his ears would know that voice even buried under anger like it is now. With great effort, he puts one hand on the wall to pick himself up off the floor. "Asahi...san."

"Don't try to get up, Nishinoya." His voice is softer now as he crouches down to the second year. Accordingly, Nishinoya has to let himself fall to the floor again. He leans his head back against the lockers with a long sigh, the lights in the hallway too bright to keep his eyes open. Two warm hands hold his face carefully. "God, look at you..."

"Is it bad?" he asks, opening his eyes to find that only one responds. The other is already beginning to swell shut. Only when he focuses very hard does his vision still enough for him to make out the worried lines around Asahi-san's mouth, the fear and hurt in his eyes. A pang more painful than anything he's feeling goes through him. He sits up straighter despite the complaint in his ribs. "I had a lollipop, got it from his girlfriend. Pear flavored. I was gonna share it with you--"

"I'm taking you to the infirmary," Asahi-san says, turning to offer Nishinoya his back.

"I'll walk," the younger says, a flush of blood to his cheeks making his wounds throb.

"I can carry you," Asahi-san returns.

"I can walk, really. I'll get blood on your uniform--"

"Nishinoya this isn't a joke. Swallow your pride and get on my back."

Nishinoya gulps. This is a voice he doesn't recognize. This frustration, this alarm. This isn't like him. So Nishinoya crawls forward and slides his arms over Asahi-san's shoulders, lets the bigger third year hoist him to standing height by the thighs. Embarrassment, humiliation, makes him hide his face between strong shoulders. There's an aggravating lump in his throat, and it's not because his ribs ache with every one of Asahi-san's steps.

At the infirmary, Asahi-san lets Nishinoya down onto the bed very carefully. He toes his shoes off to put his feet up on the bed as Asahi-san looks around for the nurse. He comes back a moment later alone.

"The nurse isn't in," he says. He wastes no time picking through the quiet office for a first aid kit, then pulls a stool up to the edge of the bed to sit on. He pops open the lid on the kit, pinches a wad of gauze between metal prongs and soaks the white material with antiseptic fluid. The strong-smelling liquid stings on his cuts, but Nishinoya doesn't complain. He just grips his pants tighter in his fist. The silence is oppressive between them. But it's not like Asahi-san has to speak for Nishinoya to know what he wants to say. His words are written plainly on his face. "Nishinoya, sit still."

"It hurts," he murmurs.

"I know, but I need you to sit still." His voice is empty of emotion. It chills Nishinoya down his spine. Asahi-san sucks his teeth, dropping the prongs in frustration. "It'll hurt less if you just sit--"

"I'm sorry." It bubbles up before he can stop it. He hazards a glance up from where his knuckles are turning white holding black fabric. Just that is enough to make his shoulders shrink to his ears. "I... I'm sorry."

Asahi-san doesn't move. Nishinoya can count the breaths they take in the silence that follows. Asahi-san lifts the prongs again, keeps dabbing carefully at the wounds, still mute. He drops the bloodied gauze into a nearby waste bin, exchanges the prongs for fresh gauze and bandage tape. It's when he takes a deep breath that Nishinoya knows cool-headed apathy is coming.

"I know you are."

He lifts his head then, the hurt making him gasp. "I mean it."

"I know you do."

He wants to say it again. Wants Asahi-san to believe him, to understand, to know that it's the truth.

"I don't get into fights because I _like_ to," he bites. Anger flairs up, hotter than the embarrassment. "I didn't realize asking for candy from a classmate was a criminal offense. That idiot was just looking for trouble, and he thought picking on me would be easy. It's not my fault I attract trouble."

"It is when you go looking for it," Asahi-san replies matter-of-factly.

"I wasn't looking for it!" Nishinoya shouts louder than he'd meant to. "I told you, all I did was ask for candy."

"I'm not going to fight--"

"I'm not picking a fight! I just wish you'd believe me when I tell you something! Why is it so hard for you to just listen to what I'm saying?"

Asahi-san's eyes go round. Nishinoya doesn't back down; everything in him tells him to take it back, to take the pain out of Asahi-san's eyes, but he swallows it down. It's not his fault. It's _not_. It doesn't matter how nice he is to others, it doesn't matter how much of himself he gives, he'll end up with a busted lip and a concussion for it one way or another. Every third week is a trip to the nurse's office, whether it be for a bumped shoulder in the hallway, or a look in the eye that lingers just an instant too long, he pays the price for these ridiculous trespasses in blood. And the reputation he's built from taking so many batterings just keeps them coming. He's tried so many times to correct it, to clean up his name, but somehow it always finds its way back. The troublemaker label. The scent of danger. The anxious glances his way.

"Don't tell me you believe what they're saying," he says, his voice failing. "Don't tell me that even with me sitting right here, looking you in the eye--"

"Nishinoya," Asahi-san interrupts with a hard voice. "Just... please. Let me finish this."

He fixes bandages over the cuts, massages healing balm into the bruises. He covers Nishinoya's swollen eye with a medicated patch. As he's putting the items back into the first aid kit, he pauses. Nishinoya looks up, sees him shaking his head slowly. It's impossible not to notice the iron grip he has on the metal lid of the kit. His brow creases.

"How many times are you going to end up like this?" he breathes. His voice shivers with the unshed tears in his eyes. "How hard is it to just keep your head down?"

Nishinoya gasps, shock and disbelief stealing his words. Asahi-san won't look at him as he shuts the kit too hard and stands to replace it where he'd found it.

"I'm not you, you know," he snarls at Asahi-san's back. "I won't shrink myself to make other people happy. If they've got a problem with me, then that's too damn bad. I'm not going to put my head down because that's not who I am. I'm not a _coward._ "

Rage rumbles through him like thunder, threatening as tears behind his eyes. Asahi-san says nothing, just looks over his shoulder to his underclassman sitting on the bed. Then he paces calmly to the door, opens it, and shuts it softly behind him without a word. Nishinoya is left, his one good eye blurred with moisture, stinking of medicated balm and blood, trembling with emotion. His head pounds, his body curls forward as he struggles to contain a sob.

Everything hurts. He wishes, as he lays back against the pillow, that he could sleep until nothing hurt anymore.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

He can't know how long it has been when he opens his eye again. The sun is gone, the room is dark. He groans as he pushes himself up from the bed. Even parts of himself he doesn't remember getting hit ache with a vengeance. He stumbles from the bed and paws around in the near-darkness until he finds what he'd seen earlier; a bottle of painkillers rattles as he snatches it up from the nurse's desk. He pops the lid off and shakes four pills into his palm and throws them into his mouth, forcing them down dry as he puts the lid back on the bottle and puts it back in its place. He slips his feet back into his shoes, manages to find his bag, and pushes his way into the overly-bright hall outside. He flinches against the harsh burn of fluorescence, his only eye watering as he tries to see past the white strobes in his vision.

His eye adjusts by the time he reaches the shoe lockers. A clock in a hallway on the way there told him it was still quarter-past six. _The guys are still at practice,_ he thinks as he puts on his outdoor sneakers without untying them. He'd been good about missing practice--his month's suspension had been long enough--but the way his head is still spinning, it'd be lucky if he could even see the ball, let alone receive it. He'd just have to think of an excuse before practice tomorrow.

That's if Asahi-san hadn't already told everyone what'd happened.

If Daichi-san finds out he'd gotten into another fight, he can only imagine the punishment he'd be facing. Laps of flies till his ribs cracked. Extra running till he was throwing up. Digging up spikes till every blood vessel in his arms broke. And though part of him wants to eat that for breakfast, the part of him that is trying to keep from limping as he walks home knows better. He can only hope Asahi-san kept the day's incident to himself.

But then he recalls the look of disappointment in his tired brown eyes. How he frowned as he cleaned Nishinoya's wounds. The patience that wore as thin as the breath that sighed between his lips. He winces at the remembrance of his own words against his senior teammate and friend. He called Asahi-san a coward. Perhaps he deserves everything that's coming to him for that.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Flipping it open, he sees a reminder of a missed message from Ryū.

** Bro where are you?? We had net today remember **

Two hours ago. He closes his phone and puts it back in his pocket without answering. He'd just have to make it up to Ryū later. Right now, the only thing he can focus on is getting himself home to succumb to the grogginess slowly numbing him. He can deal with everything once he's slept off the painkillers.

Home is an oasis after a trek through unforgiving desert. Nishinoya collapses into bed without even taking his slippers off, electing to lay on top of the covers if he can just sleep. His brain feels like it's dislodged from his skull, floating off somewhere in the night sky among the stars and clouds as his body is nearly crushed by the weight of the medicine he'd taken. It's odd to feel both free as a kite cut loose from its string and like he's pinned to the ocean floor with rocks in his pockets, but he doesn't care. The pain is reduced to a forgettable throb in the back of his mind. The harsh words he spoke to Asahi-san are lost in the static. He's neither asleep nor awake, but time slips by unnoticed in this pleasant limbo. Then, he realizes something wet and cold has been touching his face for a while. He doesn't know how long, but it's enough to pull his consciousness down from the heavens. With a groan, he opens his eyes. Both eyelids peel back this time, though the left is still more reluctant. The light in his ceiling is a blinding glow until he manages to blink past the blurriness. His mouth feels like he'd been chewing sand. The pain that had reduced to a throb now pulses more evenly, albeit at a more tolerable level. The cold, wet something returns to blot his bad eye, dripping down his cheek to moisten his sideburn. He flinches against it, then turns his head. He would've gasped if he had the strength.

"Asahi-san," he whispers. The third year sits beside his bed on the floor, wet hair hanging loose over his shoulders. He looks clean, freshly showered. The cold wetness against Nishinoya's cheek is a towel filled with ice; he picks it up again to take a look at the bruise underneath.

"How do you feel?"

_Humiliated. Ashamed. Guilty._

"Better."

"I went back to check on you and saw you were gone. I would've come sooner, but I had to mop and help Tanaka take the net down at the end of practice."

Nishinoya turns back to look at the ceiling. He bites his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Before he can say anything, Asahi-san stands and offers a hand.

"C'mon," he says quietly. "I've run you a bath."

Nishinoya's never been self-conscious in the nude. He's proud of his body, proud of the things it can do, proud of the limits it can push. But it's quite something to be sat on a washing stool and be sponged clean very carefully by a senior teammate. To have his hair washed with strong, gentle fingers. Be rinsed clean and brought to the tub to soak by a patient, guiding hand. When he comes back into the room--once he's feeling restored by the quiet magic of hot water, and his face is decidedly less red from embarrassment--he returns toweling his hair dry to find Asahi-san still sat on the floor, his back against the bed. He raises his eyes from his homework to smile at Nishinoya as he pads over to sit next to him. Nishinoya sinks to the floor with a groan.

"Have you eaten anything?" Asahi-san asks. Nishinoya shakes his head.

"Four ibuprofen doesn't count right?"

Asahi-san chuckles, laying his assignment aside. "Your parents look like they'll be late. I'll order something for us." But just as the elder makes to stand, Nishinoya pulls the hem of a white t-shirt and he stops. "Nishinoya?"

"I didn't mean what I said. Back in the nurse's office. I don't think you're a coward."

Asahi-san lets out a breath, settling back on the floor. Nishinoya averts his gaze, but he carries on when Asahi-san is kneeling again.

"I shouldn't have said that. I'm the coward. Instead of stopping that guy, I provoked him. Made him angrier. He hit me because I made him." His fingers tangle in his lap, but the more he speaks the better he feels. The guilt that's been making his chest tight begins to loosen. He dips his head a little with sincerity. "I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry for making you worry about me. And... thank you for taking care of me."

Two hands find his jaw and lift his head up. A soft pair of lips find his own, and the world stops turning for a moment. Reluctant to let this pause end, Nishinoya puts one hand on the nape of Asahi-san's neck, letting his fingers tangle with silken mousey strands.

"I take care of you because you're important to me," Asahi-san says, letting his forehead rest against Nishinoya's. The younger drinks in his words, lips parted. "I shouldn't have said what I did. I don't want you to be anything other than who you are. It kills me to see you get hurt, Nishinoya. It's like I can feel every bruise in my own body. But I know you're strong. I know you're trying to do better."

They kiss again, gently, sheepishly. Nishinoya's heart races, his breath moves painfully fast. They've only done this twice before. The first time was a blazing, passionate mess in a broom closet during a post-game high. The second time, Nishinoya decided he wanted the taste of Asahi-san's soft, red lips on his. Now, as he draws in a breath through his nose and moves his arms around Asahi-san's neck, as the elder wraps his arms carefully around Nishinoya's middle and pulls him into his lap, Nishinoya is sure only in that he doesn't want to think. He doesn't want to think about what this makes them. He doesn't want to think about how he missed practice, or didn't help Ryū with the net. None of this matters, not when he knows how warm Asahi-san is against him; not when he feels the slick of a soft, shy tongue against his own; not when he echoes a sweet sigh of contentment with his own. He turns his head and pulls Asahi-san closer, deepening their kiss, tasting nothing but safety. Fingers begin to slip under his shirt, slowly, timidly, to steal his breath. But he gasps too sharply, prompting an ache from his battered ribs. He winces, and Asahi-san draws back. Just as he's about to dive in for another kiss, pretending that he never flinched, Asahi-san holds him back gently.

"You're still hurt. And you need to eat."

Nishinoya does his best not to pout. Asahi-san's chuckle tells him he's failed miserably. The elder pushes him gently off his lap, but he doesn't stand right away. Instead, he holds Nishinoya's gaze with churning brown eyes. Nishinoya feels held looking into those depths, and he feels warmth in his cheeks respond to the intensity of that stare. A small smile breaks over Asahi-san's face.

"You know," he ponders, "instead of puffing your chest like an angry crow, I bet you'd get in fewer fights if you blushed this sweetly every time someone looked at you. What kind of candy did you say it was?"

"Pear lollipop," Nishinoya whispers. Asahi-san's smile widens.

"Your favorite."

"I couldn't help it. I saw it in her bag and I had to have it. I was going to share it with you."

Asahi-san shakes his head, still smiling. He slides one wide, warm palm to cup Nishinoya's face carefully, then leans in to press one more soft kiss to his lips. "This is sweeter," he whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends! If you liked this quick fic, check out my other AsaNoya Week fics if you'd like! You can also follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ShiroiNoKiba) to see more of my work!
> 
> Update: My commissions are now open! Please be sure to check the pinned tweet on my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ShiroiNoKiba) to know how to request me. I'm opening only a few slots, so good luck!


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